


Weak Base

by witch_lit



Category: Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Universe Alteration, slight whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6170866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witch_lit/pseuds/witch_lit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After allowing so many unsanctioned missions, the Clave punishes Alec.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weak Base

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the happenings of the TV show, around episode 7 though it does break from canon.

            Alec hums as he puts a can of tomato sauce into his shopping basket. He grabs a couple of boxes of pasta for the Institute, picking up pickles and bread as he makes his way through the crowd of customers to the pastry section.

            Alec’s immediate instinct is to grab a carton of those disgusting sugar cookies that literally melt when you put them in your mouth, but he refrains. Just because Alec could bribe Isabelle when she was younger or Max away from him with one of those atrocities doesn’t mean Magnus will like them. No one should like them.

            Alec sighs. Magnus. He had agreed to give the Warlock a chance—a date. Saying it like that makes it sound like Alec was forced into it, but he wasn’t. He’s just nervous enough to regard it only as the ‘big bad’, though it’s not. He likes Magnus. He wans this, but he’s scared.

            Alec picks up an American tea cake. Will it be too sugary? Alec’s not sure what Magnus likes. Hell, he’s not sure how long Magnus has been in America. Maybe he’s been eating American tea cakes since they were invented in… Alec doesn’t know when they were invented, but he’s sure it was before mundanes discovered vegetables were actually good for the body. When bread was less of a sin.

            Alec’s disrupted from his train of thought as his phone rings. His thumb automatically swipes right as he fishes the device out of his pocket and holds it up to his ear. Jace is off with Clary again, and they might need help.

            “Hello?”

            “Mhm, Alexander,” a voice deeper than Jace’s says on the other side of the line, and Alec freezes.

            “Sebastian?” Alec asks. Sebastian is an administrator for the Clave at the Institute. More importantly, ever since he came to the Institute, he’s taken a personal liking to freaking Alec out. He doesn’t do it to anyone else as far as Alec can tell, and Alec doesn’t know why he’s so “special”. It’s a bit irritating.

            “You recognized me,” Sebastian purrs.

            “We’ve lived under the same roof for five years,” Alec reminds him. It doesn’t mean that much, though. They work in completely different sectors and live in different wings of the Institute. He wouldn’t know who Sebastian was if he didn’t so consistently give him the creeps.

            “True. So, whom are you getting the tea cake for? I must say, it is a favorite of mine.”

            “No one,” Alec says quickly, pulling the pastry out of his basket and looking around. All the hairs on the back of his neck are standing up straight, and his heart is pounding louder than it should. He’s a shadowhunter. He’s supposed to remain calm in potentially dangerous situations.

            It’s too bad no one has ever trained him for stalkers.

            Sebastian laughs. “C’mon, I won’t tell. And you won’t see me, so stop looking.”

            “Did you just call to harass me?”

            “I wish,” Sebastian says with a sigh. “Your presence is required in front of the board at 10 AM tomorrow.”

            Alec’s heart nearly stops. “I…”

            “Something about not being able to control that Fairchild girl.”

            “Do you know what’s…” Alec tries, but the words die in his throat. He closes his eyes. He hasn’t had to face the board in years, and the last time hadn’t been pleasant. It will be even less so for a second offence.

            “Well, you know the drill. No blood thinners or painkillers before hand. If they so much as catch an _iratze_ on you, you’re toast.”

            “I. I’ll be there,” Alec manages to say. It takes a moment for his brain to seize the information and lock it in place.

            “See you then, Shadowhunter.” Sebastian says, and then hangs up. Alec almost forgot he was the recorder for the board.

            Alec stands there, holding the phone to his ear for what seems like forever. People pass him in the supermarket, giving him strange looks as he tries to collect himself. It takes a few attempts before he can open his eyes again, square his shoulders, grab the closest pastry and get out of there.

            As Alec walks back to the Institute, he tries not to let his blood boil. If Jace had listened to him, and not run off with Clary, this wouldn’t be happening. If Clary had just stayed put. If his siblings hadn’t encouraged her to do reckless things, he wouldn’t be in this position. If they’d actually respected his rank. Now he’ll have to bear the brunt of their self-indulgence and lack of control. He doubts they’ll get so much as a slap on the wrist, let alone a visit to the boardroom.

            By the time Alec makes it back to the Institute, he’s angry enough to know he needs to leave. If he runs into Jace, or worse, Clary, he knows he’ll probably try to kill them. He’ll try and punish them. Which they deserve, for getting out of this mess scot-free. He knows they will.

            Alec takes his shitty sugar cookies and flees. Even if Magnus doesn’t like the cookies, and Alec only accidentally grabbed them, and Angel knows Alec thinks they’re abhorrent, he doesn’t want his siblings given free reign of them. It might be petty, but he’s pissed at them. They don’t deserve sugar cookies.

            Alec takes the subway toward Magnus’s. He tries to takes comfort in the jerking of the cabin and the swift movement, but he doesn’t find the screeching of the rails comforting. He’s still angry when he it’s Magnus’s stop, so he doesn’t get off. He has a couple hours left to kill, which he had planned to spend training at the Institute. Then he’d take a shower and meet up with Magnus. It doesn’t matter. It’s ruined now.

            Alec gets off two stops past Magnus’s loft. There’s a small park nearby, which is covered in gum and infested by rats, but Alec doesn’t mind. The pests have never bothered him like they bother Jace, so obsessed with cleanliness. As long as he doesn’t see any spiders crawling across the ground.

            Alec doesn’t dare lay in the grass because hey, he’s got a date to go to in these clothes, but he does lay down on a bench. He puts the sugar cookies on his stomach so they can avoid the ants. He rests his arm over his face and groans. This is so not how he imagined his year going.

            Alec stays in the park for as long as he can. Then he walks to Magnus’s place, carefully trying to set what’s bothering him in the back of his mind. Tomorrow’s going to be awful, and possibly one of the most painful days of his life. But tonight isn’t. Tonight is going to be his first date ever, and he might even get his first kiss. With how direct Magnus has been, it wouldn’t surprise him. But then, Magnus seems to excel at surprising him.

            When Alec gets to Magnus’s loft, he tries to pull up an expression at least more neutral than a scowl. He thinks it’s pretty good, actually. He rings the doorbell and Magnus buzzes him up. He takes the stairs, trying to excise his frustrations from his mind.

            “Alexander,” Magnus says with a smile as Alec opens the door. He’s standing in the entryway to the rest of his apartment with a glass of wine in his hand. His eye shadow and shirt glimmer in the same shade.

            “You might want to keep your door locked,” Alec says. “What with all the genocidal shadowhunters around lately.”

            “Yes, but I knew you’d be here shortly,” Magnus grins. It makes the light reflect off of the glitter clinging to his lower lids. He looks really good, with a dark shirt pinstriped in glitter and pants that easily cling to his legs. “Shoes off. Are those sugar cookies?”

            Magnus snatches up the cookies as Alec bends to take off his shoes. He deglamours his bow and leaves it next to his boots, not wanting to be rude.

            “Yeah, they are. Sorry if you don’t like them, I just didn’t want my siblings to have them,” Alec says, straightening up.

            “So you wouldn’t feed your siblings this crap but you’d feed it to me?” Magnus says, his mouth open in a mock-gasp.

            Alec grins, forgetting himself for a moment. “They didn’t deserve them.”

            Magnus laughs and leads him to the kitchen. Alec wasn’t even aware he had one. “Gods, I haven’t had these things in so long. I always eat too many and end up in cookie hell.”

            Alec shrugs. “I’ve never liked them, so I can’t say I’ve had that problem.”

            “You shouldn’t have to brought them if you don’t like them. Now I’m going to have to eat this entire container by myself. Besides, it’s more customary to bring wine,” Magnus points out.

            “I’m 20, Magnus. I can’t just go buy a bottle of wine.”

            Magnus shrugs. “You could get it if you want to. It’s just one glamour away.”

            “Magnus!” Alec chides. “I can’t just steal things! I work for what’s essentially the magical law enforcement.”

            “You work for a cult,” Magnus says. “But enough about work. I made lasagna.”

            “You can cook?” Alec blinks, surprised. He had assumed they would be going out, though he’s relieved that they’re not. He doesn’t really want anyone spotting them.

            “No, but the Italian restaurant down the street isn’t going to miss a couple of pieces.”

            “Magnus,” Alec exclaims, not actually too concerned. Having more fun than anything. “What did I _just_ say?”

OOOO

            The next day, Alec wakes up on Magnus’s couch to the sound of his phone alarm. The alarm was set for later than he actually planned to wake up, but he’s glad he’d set it. He hasn’t naturally woken up later than seven in a long time. He must have needed the sleep.

            Magnus had told him with a strange look, when he’d requested to spend the night on his couch, not to bother waking him up in the morning if it was earlier than 11. So he sets out, changing back into his clothes from the pajamas Magnus had lent him. He picks up a bagel at a shop near the subway station.

            Alec’s mood worsens proportionally the farther away he gets from Magnus’s loft. The jarring subway doesn’t help much, and most of his anger has turned into resignation or regret. The sooner he meets the board, the sooner he’ll be healed. He promised Magnus a date in a couple of days, and he plans on keeping his word. He really likes Magnus.

            He gets to the Institute around 9:40. As soon as he enters, Isabelle’s on him. Anger is written in her face and her stride is all business wrapped in a pencil skirt.

            “Where have you been?” She hisses. “You haven’t been picking up your phone. I’ve been worried sick.”

            Alec shrugs. “I needed to not be here.”

            “Does that mean Magnus?” Isabelle asks, raising one of her eyebrows with an unnecessarily large smile. “No wonder you had your phone off.”

            “It wasn’t like that,” Alec says, pushing past her. “I’ve got to get go. I’ve been summoned before the board.”

            Alec hears her gasp, then her heels clicking against the tile floor as she catches up to him. Her hand grasps his bicep. “Alec, stop. You’ve been summoned by the board?”

            “And it’s all because of Clary and Jace,” _and you_ , Alec doesn’t add, because the way Isabelle’s started dressing recently tells him that she already knows. It’s Clary and Jace who are unapologetic. Clary doesn’t know any better, but Jace definitely does and Alec’s got to do his best not to think about it.

            “Alec, I’m so sorry,” Isabelle says.

            “I’ve got to accept the consequences,” Is all Alec replies, because ultimately it was him who failed. The others might be at fault, but it was Alec’s responsibility.

            “Is there anything I can do?” Isabelle asks, swallowing her objections, and Alec’s grateful for her.

            Alec sighs as they walk. “You can keep Clary and Jace away from me while I heal.”

            “Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Isabelle says. She can say that, though. She’s never had to go in front of them for anything, despite her many indiscretions. She can get away with things Alec could never even dream of.

            “Iz, I still have complete neuropathy in three toes from last time. Just keep them out of my way, please.”

            “Jace is going to be angry when he finds out you didn’t tell him,” Isabelle advises. “He might feel it through the _parabatai_ rune if it’s life-threatening.”

            “Let him be angry, then,” Alec says. “Maybe it’ll get his head out of Clary’s ass.”

            Isabelle bites her lip like she wants to defend them, but wisely doesn’t. Alec is in no position to be forgiving and Isabelle is in no position to ask him to. It’s not as if he doesn’t care for Jace, just that he’s fed up. He can’t manage his _parabatai_ ’s feelings and his own right now.

            They make it to the doors of the boardroom together. Isabelle whispers _I love you_ and Alec kisses her forehead. He might not come back exactly the same. They stand like that for a minute because they don’t know what could happen. At 10 o’clock, he opens the doors to the boardroom and steps in.

            The room is lit by several witch lights, which give it the unfortunate feel of a torture chamber. The room is about half the size of an Olympic swimming pool, and a third of it is closed off behind a long rectangular table. Behind the table is Alec’s mother and two Clave members. Sebastian sits at a far end, clicking at a typewriter. Why they haven’t upgraded this part of the Institute to computers yet is beyond Alec.

            Sebastian’s gaze snaps up as Alec enters, and their eyes lock. Sebastian grins, his dark eyes twinkling. Alec quickly looks away, uncomfortable under Sebastian’s gaze. Who grins at a time like this?

            “Alexander Lightwood,” says the deep voice of a man sitting near the table. He’s a Branwell that Alec recognizes as an inquisitor. “Today you come before us for allowing several unauthorized missions, several of which you attended with the knowledge of their potential negative impact on the Clave’s reputation and political ties. You also lost the Fairchild girl several times, though you were ordered to keep her at the Institute. Do you deny these accusations?”

            Alec knows there’s no point. They’re all true. “No, I claim full responsibility.”

            The Inquisitor pauses. “Do you have anything to say for yourself before your sentencing?”

            Alec shakes his head.

            “Very well,” the Inquisitor nods. “Thank you for cooperating. As a courtesy reminder, if you are brought before the Board again you will receive a suspension from your duties. Subsequent visits may call into question your ability to perform your duties.”

            It’s just a fancy way of saying they can strip him of his runes at any time. He takes a deep breath, trying to stay calm. They’re not stripping him of his runes now, at least.

            “Twenty lashes and the skin of his hand,” says the woman between the inquisitor and Alec’s mother. “No _Iratze_ s for one week.”

            Alec doesn’t bother to protest, _you can’t skin my hand or I won’t be able to use my bow_ , because they don’t care. It’ll keep him from going on missions, sanctioned or not, which is what the punishment is about. That, and everyone will know he’d done something horribly wrong.

            Alec searches his mother’s face, which was blank. When their eyes meet, she offers him a small smile. Alec thinks it’s probably supposed to be reassuring, but it comes off as more desperate than anything. Alec looks away.

            The third Clave member unrolls a cloth to reveal a rolled up whip and several blades. The pack is clean but worn. They planned ahead, then.

            Alec follows this person’s instructions and takes off his shirt. He thinks they’re the same person who poisoned him with the paralytic arachnid venom years ago, but he’s not sure. If he had followed instructions better then, maybe he’d still be able to feel all of the toes on his right foot.

            The man gets started with the whip as Alec clings to the wall. He doesn’t even have the luxury of passing out. Instead, after it’s all over and his blood is being mopped up off the boardroom floor, his mother helps him to his room. She bandages his hand—thankfully they didn’t peel the skin off his fingers, too—and covers his back with as many clean bandages as she can find.

            By the time it’s all finished Alec is exhausted. It’s not even one, and he’s only been awake for a few hours, but he falls back asleep. He knows that before anesthesia the only releases from suffering were sleep and death, and for now that’s his reality. He doesn’t really want to face the world, or himself.

OOOO

            The next day, Alec has to leave his room. Despite his board punishment, he’s still responsible for reporting unusual demonic activity to the Clave. Besides, it’s time he stop leeching off of the others who keep bringing him meals (it has nothing to do with the fact that if Isabelle brings him another self-made plate he doesn’t know how he’s going to survive. Nothing).

            Dressed in a zip up hoodie because it’s the only thing he can get on without excessive pain, Alec makes his way to the reports center. He’s sure a sweat has broken out across his forehead by the time he gets there, but he only acknowledges it by twisting his lips into a pained frown.

            Alec sets to his work and starts reading mission reports from the last couple of days. It takes a long time for him to wade through the pain enough to read, and sometimes he has to stop and silently curse when he shifts wrong or tries to use his left hand as anything other than a paperweight.

            About an hour after he starts, Isabelle wanders in. She looks surprised to see him there, or perhaps out and about at all. She’s still sporting her more conservative clothing, which Alec has mixed feelings about. She enjoys her skimpy outfits much more, but it reflects better on their family when she doesn’t wear them. They’re already in enough of a political pickle that Alec’s being punished much more than is deserved, so he thinks her self-imposed punishment might be a way to alleviate things for him.

            “What are you doing here?” Isabelle asks, her eyes soft. “You should be resting.”

            Alec shrugs, which is definitely a mistake. He has to squeeze his eyes shut and take a deep breath to keep from making any noises that show his pain.

            “There’s still work to be done,” Alec says, blinking tears out of his eyes. He’s not used to this much prolonged pain. “It’s not going to do itself.”

            “I was going to do it,” Isabelle says. “You shouldn’t be worrying about such things right now.”

            “I needed to do it,” Alec says by way of explanation.

            “I’m not incompetent, Alec. I could figure it out,” Isabelle’s eye is twitching in that way it does when she’s annoyed.

            “Please, Isabelle,” he says quietly. “It’s one of the only things I have left.”

            Her eyes soften as she realizes it’s not really about her. It’s about him losing control of the Institute while acting as head, about his _parabatai_ being angel-knows-where with the mundane girl, and about her taking his role as diplomat. He had followed the rules as closely as he could, warned them, and they had still gotten him into a lot of trouble. Isabelle is the only one bothering to attempt penance.

            Isabelle nods. “Do you need anything?”

            “I didn’t have time to stop by the kitchen this morning…” Alec says, biting the bullet to extend this olive branch.

            Isabelle’s face lights up. “Oh! Dad got me a new cookbook, I’m sure I’ll find something in there.”

            Alec sighs as she leaves, content to get back to work. Across his desk, an older shadowhunter turns around. Merrick, who’s been helping Alec learn the ropes since he can remember.

            “You’re much braver than I gave you credit for,” Merrick says.

            “You mean I’m a bigger push over,” Alec says gravely.

            Merrick cracks up. “That, too.”

            They’re interrupted as Alec’s phone begins to ring. He reaches for it, aware of the strain in his shoulder blades, and checks the caller ID. He doesn’t particularly want to be surprised by Sebastian again.

He pauses when he sees that it’s Magnus. His heart pounds a little harder in his chest. He would feel bad if he didn’t pick up, so he looks around to make sure no one’s watching him. Merrick’s turned back to his desk, and there’s a slight hum in the room.

            “Hello?” Alec says into the phone.

            “Alexander! It’s Magnus,” Magnus says.

            Alec chuckles, his bad mood lightening. “I know.”

            “I see,” Magnus says. “What would you say to drinks tonight? We could go to a club or stay in.”

            “I could bring some actual food over,” Alec suggests, then bites his lip. Does he really want Magnus to see him like this? He would hardly be able to fend off a demon on the way over to the apartment.

            “That sounds like a plan,” Magnus says. “So, six?”

            Alec checks his clock. 2:30. “Sure, sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

            “Mhm,” Magnus purrs. “You most definitely will.”

            Alec chuckles, though it burns his back. He feels a lot more comfortable with Magnus now. “Bye.”

            “See you soon, darling.”

            As soon as he hangs up, he returns to his work with renewed vigor. It’s still more slow-going than usual, but he’s eager to get it done before his date. He’ll just avoid talking about what happened with the Board.

OOOO

            By actual food, of course Alec means take out. He’s only marginally better at cooking than Isabelle, which isn’t a particularly difficult accomplishment. All it really means is that whatever he likes is about seventy percent likely to spontaneously combust.

            The problem was he didn’t ask Magnus what he would like, so he ends up getting him about three different Chinese appetizers on top of two different full entrées. He also procured a bagel from the institute kitchen if push comes to shove, but he hopes he won’t have done that poorly.

            Alec’s a little late when he arrives, due to overestimating how quickly he can move while in such great pain, but Magnus still buzzes him up. He’s suddenly very appreciative that Magnus’s building has an elevator, despite the warlock being on the second floor.

            “I must say, for a minute there I thought you were going to stand my magnificent self up,” Magnus calls as Alec enters his loft.

            “Not to worry,” Alec says, finding Magnus in the kitchen, grabbing plates out of his cupboard. “It just took longer to get here than expected. And I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so…”

            “I’m not too particular,” Magnus says as he turns around. “Hard to be when a hundred years ago it wasn’t uncommon to be eating rotting hog’s head as sausage.”

            Alec’s stomach blanches. “That sounds awful.”

            “You twentieth century kids are so spoiled,” Magnus jokes and takes the plastic take out bag from Alec. He frowns, his eyes locking on the bandage wrapped around Alec’s left hand. “What happened?”

            “Don’t worry about it,” Alec says. “I got you sweet and sour pork and gong bao chicken. And a few appetizers because I wasn’t sure.”

            Magnus smiles. “I happen to like both of those dishes. It smells great, by the way.”

            Alec smiles, pleased with himself. He pulls his own dish from the bag and awkwardly tries to open the container with only one hand. He’s almost spectacularly unsuccessful, but Magnus sees him flailing and opens it for him. Which is embarrassing, but Alec’s had to learn that’s a part of being injured.

            “I can heal your hand, you know,” Magnus says casually once they’re sitting on his couch.

            Alec remembers he shouldn’t shrug just in time and instead shakes his head. “It’s not necessary. You shouldn’t exert yourself.”

            “It really wouldn’t be a problem,” Magnus says, reaching for it.

            Alec snatches his hand away, nearly toppling his meal in the process. “Don’t,” he hisses.

            “As much as I’m sure you want to drop this topic, this actually seems like it might be something I should know about,” Magnus says, and though his expression is hard his eyes are soft.

            Alec sighs. He’s such a pushover. He hopes Magnus doesn’t think poorly of him for it. “I’m not allowed to heal it for a week. Don’t worry about it.”

            “Who’s not letting you heal it?” Magnus asks, his voice rising.

            Alec suddenly feels very small. He stares at the different shades of brown and green in his meal. “It’s not that big a deal.”

            “Not a big deal? Can you even use your bow without your hand?” Magnus says angrily.

            “Well, no,” Alec admits. “That was the point. To stop all the unsanctioned missions Jace and Clary have been on. The Clave thought it best that—“

            “The _Clave_ ,” Magnus says angrily, “did this to you?”

            When Alec doesn’t answer, Magnus takes it as a yes. “They had no right—corporal punishment doesn’t even _work_.”

            “It was my responsibility,” Alec says, meeting Magnus’s eyes for the first time since they started talking about it. “I failed, and I got punished. Can we please move on?”

            Magnus still looks livid, but after a couple of moments his shoulders relax. “At least tell me Jace and Clary are groveling at your feet,” Magnus mumbles grumpily.

            “They don’t know,” Alec says. “And I doubt it would stop them from getting me into more trouble if they did.”

            Magnus locks eyes with him. “You should tell them.”

            Alec looks down. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

            Magnus frowns, but picks up another topic. “Did you know I have a cat? I haven’t seen him around for a couple days but he’s got to be somewhere.”

            “Yeah?” Alec says with a small smile. “What’s his name?”

 


End file.
